I could still see the marks they
painted there:
echoes of exhausted efforts to extract
chaos from the ether
and replace it with pharmaceutically
inspired order;
striving for symmetry in a place where
there are no mirrors.
They laid down asphalt in hard pack
trying to beat back everything they
could find
with sticks and stones and steamrollers
and backhoes
turning a place where everything goes
into a place where everyone goes
So they marked it up and chalked it up
as a job well done
and moved on to find more chaos to take
and keep locked away.
Later they found you can't wrap up
discord like wires
and it became apparent that Pandora's
box never got closed all the way
and pandemonium kept creeping out in to
the disarray
That pharmaceutical syntax withered and
cracked
as symmetry became immolated with chaos
and snapped off jagged and tumbled away
It was only then
that I saw a place where you could fall
off the edge of the world
And streak through eons of white
infinity,
Toppling wildly toward nothingness,
And never even know it.
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